


The Slow Road to Healing

by icecheetah



Series: Slow Recovery [2]
Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Gen, Other, Temporary Character Death, flashbacks to a previous life, interludes have additional warnings in author's notes, things that look like suicidal ideation, warnings here apply to main chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecheetah/pseuds/icecheetah
Summary: Steak was badly injured. Red Wine doesn't understand why Steak's trying to heal 'like a human' rather than respawning.
Relationships: Red Wine & Steak (Food Fantasy)
Series: Slow Recovery [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666141
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. Prolouge: A Past.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly didn't expect to write a continuation of "I Was Supposed To Protect You." That was a one off. An idea that struck me one night and I had to get it out of my head if I wanted to sleep. But then, as often happens, I got ideas. And ideas became more ideas and then this eventually happened. Partly because NaNoWriMo 2019, partly because there were certain scenes I REALLY wanted to draw. What can I say? I know what I like to draw.
> 
> However, I have left the fandom itself, which gave me more time to make this. And now, a year after publishing "I Was Supposed To Protect You", here we go.
> 
> Since canon itself can be wishy washy and even outright disagree with itself, I just made up my own system based on the mechanics. There's some canon influence (Thank you, Oyster event for the 'food souls bleed' thing, even though I was told that canon also says that they don't bleed). 
> 
> There's also flashbacks.
> 
> Because they contain... hints as to why things are the way they are in this specific iteration. All of the current scenes are from Red Wine's pov, but there are a couple flashbacks that are 100% Steak.
> 
> And no. Even though I did this for NaNoWriMo, it won't be 50,000 words long. I wrote other things to fill out the word count after I got that down.
> 
> Enjoy! Though if you haven't read "I Was Supposed To Protect You," read that first. This continues from that.

A crack and a chiming sound sent Red Wine's pen skittering across the page, splashing ink all over and striking through painstaking words, barely avoiding staining the wooden toy bee his Master Attendant's daughter had forced upon him.

He rested his forehead on his curled knuckles and stared down at the mess. "That... was supposed to be the final draft." And granting himself a moment to then stare at his hands as if it was THEY that failed him, he reached for a fresh piece of paper. Whatever new being his Master Attendant had summoned, they could wait.

"DAD! DAD!" A familiar voice rang out, not too far away. "DAD! I COULD SUMMON A FOOD SOUL TOO!"

...

Red Wine put the paper down. He had a feeling that the heavy footsteps that followed that girl belonged to someone... disruptive... .

_______________________________________________________________________________

Steak collapsed down against the wall, breathing heavily, one arm resting on one of his swords. Finally. It was over.

The Fallen Angel, the one that was now dying right before Steak's eyes, had taunted him and Red Wine so long, leading the both of them through a maze of buildings and it's own destruction, until finally it ran itself into a corner it could not knock down. Trapped itself in the end. Not long before the sun started to set.

Just a moment's rest, and then the two of them could return home, report a job well done. He smiled. His Master Attendant's mother would be relieved, and as for his own... Steak could already imagine her staring at him in wonder as he tried to tell the tale. Red Wine would, of course, take over in the end.

He turned to Red Wine. "My Master Attendant will want to tell your Master Attendant about this when he gets home . Don't spoil it for her."

In response, Red Wine, curled up into himself next to Steak, only grunted. And even more surprising... was he leaning towards Steak? Holding himself?

Steak could only ask: "Red Wine, are you hurt?" What else was there to do?

Red Wine frowned, and quickly turned his head way. "I'm quite alright. I merely have a surface wound and would rather it not stain my clothes."

Sounded like he was his normal self, at least.

Steak stood. "We need to get home. I need to report this, and sitting here won't make your shirts any easier to clean." He waited a moment, and then he started to walk away. 

"You... fool!" Red Wine hissed, "Have you ever been here before? You won't even find your way back on your own!"

Steak turned back to face Red Wine, who was already standing, but holding onto his side tightly. "Have you been here?"

"Of course.  _ My _ Master Attendant had to travel all over to peddle his wares," Red Wine grumbled, facing slightly away.  "Damn fool couldn't keep himself out of the most precarious of situations if it meant a bargain he could pass onto his customers." 

Letting Red Wine walk past him, Steak frowned.  "Should you really insult him like that?"

"He's away. I can insult him how I damn please!" Red Wine , said without turning to face Steak . "Really. Leaving me behind to look after his family? The nerve-"

Steak tuned out. His Master Attendant told him 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all," and he felt if he paid attention, he'd do more than say not nice things to Red Wine. That and... it was a bad idea to fight him then.

Steak frowned. Where did that feeling come from? Having noticed that thought, Steak focused more on Red Wine.

Red Wine, though he was leading the way, was walking slower than normal. And, though normally Steak didn't pay attention to Red Wine's gait surely it wouldn't be that... lopsided? Heavily favouring not moving that side where Red Wine was clinging. And he stuck close to the walls, even though with the sun setting, there were plenty shadows everywhere for him.

His footsteps were out of rhythm.

Why, when he focused on his own appearance so much, would he allow himself to fall out of rhythm?

The answer came when Red Wine stopped a moment,  and collapsed into the wall, his shoulder crashing first before he slid down into a crouching position, still clinging to his side.

Alarmed, Steak ran up. "Red W-"

"I am a horrible liar."

The words were quiet. Raspy.

This... this was serious.

Steak stared at his collapsed brother in arms, chilled by the vulnerability. "Liar?"

And Red Wine only nodded. Finally, Steak could see the blood stain was spreading to the white parts of Red Wine's outfit.

Steak crouched down, glaring. " _ Why didn't you tell me you were so hurt?"  _

And Red Wine still couldn't face him. "Why indeed?" Those words came out with... a laugh? "Do me a favour and tell your Master Attendant I got sick of waiting for her father to come home, and so I ran after him?" He fished in his pocket, and pulled out the toy bee he always carried around. "And take this back to her."

"You're dying."

"Quite."

Steak grimaced. "Well, when you reform can you tell your Master Attendant to hurry on home? His family misses him."

For a few unblinking moments, Red Wine just.  stared, wide eyed, as if the Fallen they had just defeated had reformed behind Steak. Then he shuddered and crumpled into himself more. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. I don't know how, but my Master Attendant has perished since he set of sailing."

And Steak's thoughts tried to churn through this. "Wait..."

That meant. That meant... .

"Red Wine. You... "

This was going to last. This was going to  _ last. _ Red Wine was going to die and this time he wasn't going to come back.

And completely oblivious to Steak's processing, Red Wine continued;  " It had happened a while ago. When I started complaining, it ...  ."

"RED WINE! DON'T WASTE TIME!"

Steak scooped up his injured brother in arms, and ran. He heard Red Wine protest, but didn't process, just searching for anyone who looked even vaguely like a Doctor. They could treat food souls too, right?

But there was no one around. The devastation of the Fallen Angel had driven everyone away. And the only sounds were Steak's footsteps, his breathing, and Red Wine's ignored words.

No one was around when Red Wine became lighter.

No one was around when a light touch on Steak's face ground him to a halt, and  he stared down in horror to see that the hand, as well as the person it was attached to, were all but transparent. In that hand that touched Steaks face, Red Wine also held the bee. He let it go. Sorry."

By the time it hit the ground he'd faded entirely.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now getting into the main timeline of the story.  
> A part of the point of the prolouge was to set up how Food Souls and their deaths work in this fanfic. But to make it absolutely clear: as long as a food soul has a valid Master Attendant, they are able to essentially re-spawn wherever their MA is. However, once the MA passes away, the Food Soul loses that ability to re-spawn.
> 
> There's more details but I don't currently plan to be so explicit about them in Author's notes.
> 
> If you haven't read "I Was Supposed to Protect You" already, do it now. This chapter literally begins right after it.

Red Wine should have been there.

But that OAF was there instead.

The one time their mutual Master Attendant had sought HIS help. The one time they actually cared to listen to his advice on their (frankly dreadful) attire. And yet it was Steak that went with them to whatever event it was they'd sought the advice for. All apologies. But _apparently_ whatever event it was that would drag them out of their slovenly attire and into something decent was 'not your sort of thing'. Somehow.

Somehow they had some sort of prior agreement that meant Steak had to be the one to go while Red Wine had to be one of the ones that stayed behind and looked after things.

Not that he was fuming about it.

Not that he was sitting at the window, staring into the dark.

Not that he was  _ waiting _ .

Then again,  Well, of course they'd rather trust Red Wine himself to look after things than Steak. Really. Perhaps it was merely them being p ractical.  Again. Like always. Averting whatever disaster would occur if they'd left Steak to his own devices.

The principle still remained. They left him behind at an event they refused to even define, after asking for his help in getting a decent outfit, leaving Red Wine with, now that the work was all done, nothing better to do than sit at the window, glaring his distaste in the direction the two of them had gone with the wind carrying the faintest scent of blood-

He stepped back.

That scent, faint as it was, was intimately familiar. Steak. Steak's blood. So faint  that even he could barely distinguish it over the night air. Well. Great. What mess did the two of them get into?

At least he could rely on Steak's damn protective streak to prevent any harm to their mutual Master Attendant. And therefore, their clothes. Though if he got hurt, that same Master Attendant was prone to fuss. And if they got Steak's blood ALL OVER those nice clothes... .

It would be tempting to kill him just to save the effort in washing them.

The scent got stronger. He still couldn't SEE them.

Perhaps it was darker than he thought out. The moon was in full view, but perhaps there was a mist just covering the two of them. Or perhaps they weren't approaching from an angle he could see from that window. (Steak wouldn't be moving if he was too hurt, would he?)

Red Wine listened. While he regarded Steak's armour to be all but useless (only protecting one arm? Baring his midriff?) it was still heavy enough to make his already oafish gait audible at a distance.

Nothing.

Not a step.

If the wind was enough to carry the scent to him, it should also carry the sounds. Even the insects and nightbirds were far more audible than the footsteps he should be hearing with the scent so almost sickeningly strong. And the wind... there was almost none. None to carry the scent over such a large distance.

The scent was starting to get (intoxicating) nauseating.

Red Wine stepped back, covering his mouth and nose like the scent would tear his breath away. And he still _didn't see or hear them_. It was impossible now for it to be a minor wound. Not if he still couldn't SEE. Red Wine knew how well he could see in that dark and there WAS no wind to pull the scent to him from afar. The grass would crunch. There at least would be a shadow against moving shadow. Was Steak limping ...no... crawling home, to beg for help after something happened to their Master Attendant? No. He was too stupid to abandon them tactically. _Too damn Loyal._

Steak never could go a lifetime without his loyalty getting him in trouble.

Red Wine stepped back again. Why did HE have to be the one there? A problem getting closer with every moment and him the only food soul still awake to DEAL with it. Why not _Anyone Else?_

Anyone... else... .

He fled to the kitchen and grabbed a rag and the first foul smelling probably-a-cleaning-fluid he could find and soaked it through. If he was going to have to deal with the blood, he'd need the help of all the disgust he could muster. Holding it to his face, he ran.

______________________________________________________________________________

"I. Can't. Believe. You." Red Wine said the moment he'd found his Master Attendant.

All the mysteries solved. That's exactly what he didn't get.

What he got was a Master Attendant who had reduced all that finery to RIBBONS trying to bandage up Steak, who was unconscious. UNCONSCIOUS!

A Master Attendant who only held onto dignity at all by wrapping themselves in Steak's blood soaked cloak (and why hadn't they used THAT if they felt the need to bandage him up?).

A Master Attendant who slowly trudged their way back home, unguarded, carrying their supposed protector upon their back.

A Master Attendant whose first words, almost barked at Red Wine, were: "Don't. Ask."

They sounded exhausted, but their eyes were still sharp and stern. Well, given that they had taken it upon themself to carry that useless lump so far, it was reasonable for them to be tired.

Red Wine steeled himself for-

"Don't you offer to carry him either."

...

Well. It wasn't like he _wanted to_. The cloth carrying the disgusting fluid he'd chosen concealed his equally disgust _ed_ expression.

The thought of that now useless, proud warrior STICKING to Red Wine, his blood pouring down Red Wine's back...

Really. He was grateful to be spared that. Even if it was only their own stubbornness and lack of reason that made them so adamant about carrying Steak the whole way, there was no reason for Red Wine to rescind the blessing.

The scent of Steak's blood seeped through the scent of the fluid in Red Wine's cloth, the mixing of the two the only thing stopping it from being overwhelming (though Red Wine was quite sure if he were human, by now he would have fainted from the fumes, if not worse). The volumes of blood soaking through those wasted bandages... both on his back and on his head... what had happened? Why was he in such a state?

What has keeping him alive?

________________________________________________________________________________

The cleaning chemicals probably weren't helping him stay awake.

It was a frankly ridiculously late hour, late enough to be early in the next day, and finally, with the help of the other food souls, Steak was wrapped and cleaned and propped to their Mutual Master Attendant's satisfaction. Propped up in his bed, completely unaware off the attentions that had been paid to him.

He looked like a hospital patient.

Even then Red Wine didn't dare lift off his scent cloth, though the scent of Steak's blood had faded from the air sufficiently that with the cloth Red Wine didn't smell it anymore. Black Tea had given him a most curious look, but had said nothing.

But when their mutual Master Attendant had left the room, he grabbed their shoulder. "I have questions."

Their response was slow in coming, words forming behind blank eyes that only wanted to go to sleep and now were tasked with finding out what to feel about a situation. "I bet you do." There was no feeling in that response. They stepped on past him. "Let's go to the kitchen. And throw away that cloth, it's giving me a headache."

_______________________________________________________________________________

For once Red Wine held all of his Master Attendant's attention, and the situation... he'd rather not have it. Perhaps it was tiredness impairing their recollection and his understanding, but how they survived and got away with Steak being so injured so fast, it made no sense to him.

He rubbed his temples. Unfortunately, there were more important details than the impossibility of their continuing survival. "Master Attendant." He tried to face them. "I know you are aware of how contracts with food souls work. I know KNOW you are aware that if we 'die', as long as we have a valid contract, and are willing, we will return to your side fully healed. I know you are aware of this because both Steak and I have died protecting you before. So..." he had to straighten himself up in spite of his weariness. Dignity would not allow him to ask this without the proper form to glare at them. "...why are you allowing him to suffer?"

His master attendant stared back, but for all the emotion it carried, they could have fallen asleep with their eyes open. Entirely possible, in those circumstances.

He opened his mouth to continue, but so did they. Thinking that perhaps his meaning had percolated through their exhaustion dulled brain, he stopped.

"Don't you think it's weird that he hasn't done that already?" His Master Attendant looked in the direction of the room Steak was held in. "He's lost a frankly ridiculous amount of blood, even for him. And he's _just_ unconscious?"

This... was true. Even trying not to think about it, Red Wine could hardly NOT notice how the wound in Steak's chest GAPED. A hole right through his body. The one in his head too... yes. He had died to lesser wounds in the past.

And Milk's healing did nothing. This was beyond simply restoring Soul Power.

His Master Attendant continued, leaning onto the table, making a tripod of their own arms to support their weary self. "I don't know why he's holding on like this, and it's not like we can even ASK until he can wake up. There has to be some kind of REASON he's like this, and I want to at least know before I disrespect that."

Oh... no.

"Master Attendant!" the words jumped out, fast, high and loud, carrying him forward, half way across the table, "You're assuming he'd have a REASON? He'll suffer when he wakes! If any harm comes to you while he's unable to help his anguish will be unbearable!" His palms pressed into the wood, his nails digging in through his gloves. "That could be enough to drain him of the will he'd NEED to recover!" His voice had gone as high as it would, and there was a pressure in this throat. " _He could scar!_ "

What was he even _doing?_

The look that his Master Attendant gave him was not quite one he could understand. Surprise? Disdain? They certainly were more _alert._ The moments of silence stretched while he was in that pleading position.

Finally, they spoke: "You want to take his choice away?"

"Master Attendant! You don't know him like I do." How may eons HAD They known each other, in previous lives? "He wouldn't want to take the risk that you could be hurt." No matter how awful his previous Master Attendants had been it was almost always the same. "You're forcing him to recover like... like... a human!"

And in response they merely pinched their nose. "This will get us nowhere. I'm tired." They got up. "Don't kill him or get anyone else to. Good night." And with that, they left.

Red Wine slowly backed away from the pleading position.

He too, was tired.


	3. Chapter 2

Curiosity is the most horrid thing.

In the late morning and early afternoon, Red wine had passed Steak's room several times. Each one unnecessary. Detours on the way to his own room just to listen for any sign of life in there. Always to be disappointed. No restlessness to indicate Steak had awakened, and no signs that he had passed in the night to reform near their mutual Master Attendant.

He wouldn't tell the others, but Red Wine had to at least admit to HIMSELF that he wanted to be the first to know when ... if Steak awoke. No. Second. Presumably even Steak was capable of noticing when he himself was awake. And Red Wine had to be there because... if their mutual Master Attendant required that he get Steak's _permission_ to kill him, he'd get it. At least he could trust that Steak would see the sense there. Why fester in pain when he could be restored in one quick strike? Why suffer when he still had a valid contract?

And Steak would be able to trust Red Wine in turn to make it efficient. Painless.

Of course, if their mutual Master Attendant saw him first, he may decide instead to suffer just so as to not cause them distress. See their decision to keep him alive as the right one. After all loyalty twists people's views so that the ones they are loyal to can't be wrong.

At least this one somewhat earned that _loyalty._

Red Wine came out of this thoughts, realising he'd sat down outside that door. The one that Steak was behind. Sat down and didn't even notice. Probably he was just exhausted. Yes. He'd gotten himself into a half dreaming stupor and sat down there without realising it because somewhere he realised he needed the rest. It had been... a draining time.

He had to get up. If anyone saw him... .

He jolted up and shook his head. Sleep was conquering him. Worry must have eaten away at the sleep he did manage to get in that morning... worry? It had been a late and stressful night. He couldn't be _worried._ Not about _him._ Just the stupidity of his Master Attendant.

He looked to the window, and the sun was still bright. It couldn't have been long that he was asleep. Moments. Not enough that he had to worry that he was spotted. So all he had to do was stand and leave.

The back of his head thumped into the door as he manoeuvred his limbs into a position he could move from. One thump... two...

A grunt.

It wasn't his.

Only half stood, Red Wine turned his head to the door. Did the grunt come from Steak? Was he awake in there?

Pulling himself into a more proper position, Red Wine knocked firmly. In the silence that came after, he briefly gripped his sabre, but then let go. Shifted the scabbard back under his cloak. No. It wasn't yet the time to bring it out. After he got the all important permission. That was the time.

But the silence... had he imagined that grunt?

"Steak," he said, in a soft tone he hadn't used in lifetimes. Not towards _Steak_ anyway. "I-" it was certainly for the opposite reason that he used that tone last time. Red Wine shook his head at himself. No use thinking about then. "May I come in?"

Still silence.

Obviously Red Wine had misheard.

Or maybe Steak had decided that Red Wine was the last person he wanted to see at that time. It certainly wouldn't be surprising. In his place Red Wine wouldn't want to meet himself either.

But what would he want?

Oh.. that was quite obvious.

"Master Attendant is fine," he said, driving it past the door with some force. "They brought you back on their own. Told me everything."

There was some sort of noise, so faint he couldn't identify it. Not so faint that he wasn't sure he'd heard it. Something, at least, was moving in there.  
  


He knocked again. Firmly. Steak might not want to talk, but he wasn't going to leave until he got that damned _permission._ "Steak. Please speak if you are able. I wish to come in and talk to you."

And he waited. Until finally he'd heard the smallest, feeblest 'yes' that could still sound annoyed.

The clearest signal yet.

Red Wine entered, quietly, not wanting to draw any attention to the action. The room was much the same as he'd seen it the previous night. Clean. The room merely smelled clean, no trace of anything in there smelling like its owner aside from himself, his belongings stripped of his essence. And empty, the space where his armour and swords would be lacked its usual occupants.

And him? Too pale. Lying flat on his back in the exact same position he was placed in, aside from his eyes being open and his head slightly tilted towards Red Wine. And he was silent. A hint of a glare being the only thing that linked this outright welmish being to the man he usually was.

Him being like that was wrong.

Him being outright _insufferable_ was at last better than... this.

And yet it was Steak that broke the silence. "Is it really true that Master Attendant wasn't hurt?"

Red Wine leaned back against the door and crossed his arms. "Quite. I am.... uncertain as to how they were able to carry you all the way back here."

Steak's head tilted back a little, what may have passed for him relaxing in that particular state. How awful. "I'm glad." The glare left him, now he just looked exhausted.

Red Wine fully turned away. Seeing this weak version of him was just disgusting. "I thought you'd be." Now do you want to die to get this over with? "They were very concerned about you." Ruined nice clothing for you. I hope you're happy. "I don't understand them."

Red Wine heard a shift, but didn't turn to face Steak.

He continued. "They've gotten it in their head... it's a _bsurd_ that they thought this but they seem to believe..." he was waffling. How are you meant to ask someone to let you kill them? "That since you didn't die in that attack, and as an aside they didn't define WHAT attacked you, they have to wait for you to wake up so they can ASK to kill you." He glanced Steak's way. "Of course that's just absurd. You could have been awake long ago completely healed, no need to suffer through ... through this!" He opened his palm towards Steak, indicating all of him. "Frankly it's ridiculous that they'd think you'd want-"

"Stop"

Steak's first words in that since the waffling began. And they were just... stop? How could he?

But Red Wine did stop. To let Steak say his piece.

"I don't want to die."

"What?" In spite of himself Red Wine stepped forwards. Those words, a normal sentiment, but... not here. Here they were UNREASONABLE! "Why do you... do you want to suffer? Need I remind you we've both died under contract to this very Master Attendant?" He continued to step, closer and closer to the bed. The boundary. "They aren't holding you to this! They don't WANT you to suffer! They wouldn't!" What did they know that he didn't? He kneeled onto the bed. "You won't be able to protect them if you're in this state!"

And Steak, for the first time, turned his head away. "You said they were fine."

"That doesn't mean they won't need you!" Red Wine crawled forwards. Why would he do this? In all the centuries that the two of them had been summoned adjacent to each other...was there any time, yet to be recalled, where Steak was like this? "What? Do you believe that they were fine in spite of your presence? You know that's impossible." Sure, their mutual Master Attendant was an odd one, but they were still a _human_. He did at least some of the fighting right? They didn't mention him having done any but that doesn't mean he didn't do any. Red Wine kneeled right over Steak. "Neither of us are as strong as we can be yet. You lying here like this delays the day when you will reach your full potential."

No response.

How... how dare _he_? Red wine drew his sword and pointed it at Steak's throat. "Why delay your healing like this? You're going to be... useless! You'll scar!"

He held the sword steady, leaning over Steak, trying to hold back the fury... the worry... the whatever it was that made him want to collapse."You don't have to punish yourself for this! You were both caught by surprise and alone."   
  
Steak stared back, silent. His eyes... lightless. Lifeless. "No."

Just no.

  
  
Red Wine was still, but his sword, his arm... he shook. Slowly, he pulled back, sheathing his sword, still staring down at Steak. Why? Why? "...why?"

"WHY?" Steak snapped up, occupying the space that Red Wine had just been, "I-hkg" He contorted, hiding his face, holding his chest wound.

And he smelled of fresh blood.

The wound... had broken... .

Red Wine fled. This was not how it was supposed to go. But why? It didn't make any sens... wait.

He glanced back in his flight. Where were his swords? Had he even seen them since Steak and their mutual Master Attendant had left the previous night? Had their mutual Master Attendant even carried them back?  
  
They must not have!  
  


And that must be it. With how far away they would be, of course! He'd worry that if he died he'd lose them eternally! And what would he do if he lost is loyal weapons? Steak's mind was so easily addled, this anxiety must have taken root in him and was what held him back!

Red Wine stopped near a window. Catching his breath and looking out, he observed it was close to dusk.

Of course, there was no point in going back and trying to _reason_ with Steak about this.

And who knows what that Master Attendant of theirs would think if he asked for help.

So the only solution was to go out into the night.


	4. Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the previous chapter, in editing...  
> I cut out a lot of instances of "Steak awake" and other repetition.
> 
> Also this interlude has a sorta implied abuse tw.

One time, Red Wine hadn't yet shared enough lifetimes with Steak to instantly recognise him.  
But still, as he walked with his Master Attendant, a woman from whom love poured like her heart couldn't contain it all, one day, he couldn't help but feel like he knew one of the red haired men he passed by. And looking closer, two things struck him. Two things that made him look wrong.  
One, was that one of the man's horns was snapped.  
And two, this one a feeling that twisted right in his guts, was a feeling that that man should absolutely, positively, under no circumstances whatsoever, be so damn QUIET!  
And with those feelings, Red Wine cast his suspicious gaze upon the one he presumed to be that man's Master Attendant.


	5. Chapter 3

The moon was out in full force when Red Wine reached the forest, panting, still running. Would it be too late by the time he'd brought the swords back? Would this lifetime of Steak's be another in which he was scarred? Would the trail run cold?

Perish the thought! This was the forest. What reason would someone have to clean up the blood Steak had spilled? As repulsive as the thought was, following that scent would be his best chance of finding the swords, and no one was better suited to the task.

Of course, there was the possibility of the Fallen Angel. He listened. It would not take him by surprise.

The leaves of previous autumns flitted in the breeze he left in his wake, the remains of the sunlight and the hints of future moonlight filtered down through the now living, younger leaves that would join them in the future. It was quite enough for him to see. And the air... was damp and yet clean in the way forests can be. Moss particles all that could hint at what lived there. And all was otherwise silent.

No insect noise.

No birds.

Now where was it?

Why hadn't his Master Attendant explained anything about the Fallen Angel? With the animals being silent, it had to be nearby, but how could he SPOT it if he didn't know what to look for? Still... too late to ask. He could only assume that it wasn't of a sort they'd encountered before. Surely if they had they'd _at least_ have used that kind's name.

Finally he caught a whiff of the scent that for once in his life he was seeking. Steaks fetid, dried, decomposing blood. A true nausea mixed with his usual self disgust, stopping him in his tracks. He covered his mouth so he could breathe at least somewhat filtered air.

He took a step forwards, then another. He should have brought another cloth soaked in cleaning chemicals. Or perfumes. So at least he could experience something pleasant in this attempts to stomach this.

Oh what he'd do for that idiot.

He walked on and on, wherever the scent would get closer.

And silently he approached a clearing, and it was a mess. The ground had been torn, what was clearly Steak's blood splattered all over. A massive puddle still remained, clearly still damp. Whatever did this was what Steak had survived? The already impossible seeming situation got even more so.

The swords! Red Wine cast his eyes about, searching for the glint of them in the failing light. And there they were. Lying on untorn grass, carelessly crossed over each other. A shadow passed over them. Something breathed nearby.

He flitted over and picked both up. He cradled them both in his left arm, clinging them to himself like they were a beloved, lost child in need of protection. A rather difficult prospect, given how darned spiky the broader sword was.

Something slid.  
  
Not even loosening his grip on the swords, Red Wine reached for his own sword, and glanced over his shoulder. Some form slid in the trees, thick branches uncoiling themselves and falling back to earth and... oh... .

He'd glanced up.

And perhaps this was why his Master Attendant didn't describe it. The Fallen angel, an eldritch tangle, vast beyond what he could see in that clearing, had a lure to it. Appearing to be a victim, an injured person lost to the trees, in desperate need of help. The desperate form held the nearest thing it had to a facsimile of a face, even that twisted and broken. And though it clearly was a Fallen Angel, it did not move.

"Really," Red Wine said, starting to draw his sword. "That's just in bad taste!" He raised his sword up, holding onto grace as well as Steak's two blades, though they bit into his arm through his sleeves. "I-"

His words were carved out of his throat from behind. A lance like branch piercing him through his voice, and another crashing through his now useless sword arm. Even though he still held it, he could not lift it.

"Hkg!" His own blood, foul even to the bloodthirsty side of him, clogged what the branch didn't. "Hkkh!" Tiny gasps, little bubbles of air were all that could get past the new, cloying barrier in his throat, bubbling up and down.

The protrusion curled up in front of him and hoisted him back, dragging him through the leaves and into the air, right in front of the formless, false corpse that the fallen angel had as a trap. More of those smooth, sharp branches wormed through it, and that chassis crunched and twisted around them.

And it just held him there, right where it could look at him, if that face, more like a rough carving, had eyes.

It... was just watching, waiting for him to die.

Focus. FOCUS. As long as... if it did nothing he would surely die so as long as he held onto Steak's swords then... he'd achieve his goals. "hgh" Pain shook his body shuddered, his fingers around his own sword loosened and it slid back into its sheathe. The arm around Steak's sword... he tightened his grip. He just had to die holding the swords. He just had to hold on to them."

The swords bit into him, but they were nothing compared to the other pains he was suffering. The scene before him blurred and doubled... no good. If he fell unconscious before he died he'd let go. He had to die _faster._

"Hhgk!" Air bubbled down, pulling down his own blood into his lungs. Drowning was not a quick enough death.

"hhhhk". His blood dripped down his back, down his chest, down his arms, clinging, gluing his clothes to his skin, creating rivers of revulsion all over, his own _filth_ crawling down to and clinging to his fingertips. He tried to not shudder, the disgust would make the pain worse. Bloodloss was not a quick enough death.

And that beast must've delighted in his torment, to leave him so. It did not seem to react, was it even able? Or was he merely unable to see its grin through his haze of pain? Regardless, it would not bring him a quick enough death.

If only he was _more_ fragile. Plenty would have already expired in his position. And if he were weaker he would be HOME already.

His hand was able to grip still and the arm able to curl.

If he could just...reach... .

"hhh" Dexterity was not on his side. Control was not on his side. Still, he raised his free arm inch by slow inch, biting back that pain and focusing so hard on his hand, it almost wasn't as blurred as everything else was in his swimming vision. And then it was parallel. He tried to push it towards the tendril, but it would not move at all. It was absent.

He couldn't use his arm to move it but... this was going to be hell... .

He pushed his shoulder around, twisting his entire body using his imprisoned neck. The wound both popped away from and twisted into the vine, opening new paths for his blood to trail down. A cough rose from his chest and, it's path through his throat blocked, burst out his front.

He gripped the vine.

He gripped it, as much as he could in that state. And squeezed.

It... crunched?

The surface beneath his hand compressed much like a rough foam to even the meagre pressure he could exert. And the vine pulsed, as if in alarm, through where his hand was. Enough to loosen his already feeble grip, and the arm hung from the vine, useless.

If the vines were so weak then... perhaps...

It was try, or fall unconscious and lose the swords.

He swung his legs side to side, crunching his own bones against the form in his neck with every movement, feeling every click and splinter in his throat as the delicate weapon disintegrated. Sharp shards crawled up the blood in this throat, bringing an acid taste into the foul mix.

The Fallen Angel shrieked, an oddly distant sound. The vine in his throat thrashed, and darkness and light danced before him before several more things pierced him and pushed him back, freeing his throat.

In spite of himself, he gasped, and then...

he broke.


	6. Chapter 4

Red Wine breathed.

Nothing stopped him.

He tasted air and tea and no blood.

The room was bright.

Red Wine winced.

The swords were still in his arm, heavy. He'd succeeded.

He touched his throat. It was smooth.

He was complete.

He was-

"Red Wine!" His Master Attendant yelled.

Red Wine blinked.

When did they... they were stood in front of him, all glares, all tracing him. And they sighed, "Steak told me that you talked to him when he woke up. What were you thinking?". Oh.... this was the kitchen... .

Red Wine opened his mouth but... it was outright daft but...

He didn't yet feel like he could speak. His throat had never been robbed from him before, what if... what if...

His Master Attendant gave him a confused look. "Red Wine?" It was a far gentler tone than they had used just a moment before. "I'm not going to chastise you if you explain what happened. Because CLEARLY something did."

Explain what HAPPENED? He couldn't even explain _to himself_ why he felt that he couldn't speak!

"Geeze... " they said more softly, talking more to themself. "... what the hell." They walked over to one of the drawers and pulled it open. "Are you going to need to write it out or... ."

Red Wine breathed. "ah... I... h..."

They paused. Turned to him. Waited.

"h"... he tried. Clearly he was PHYSICALLY able. So why? "I... ."

He dropped Steak's swords on the table and ran off to his room, not attempting to say anything more.

_____________________________________________________________________________

He lay on his bed, still touching his own throat.

All the death's he'd had and yet... somehow something in his mind must've felt disbelief at his own healing. Perhaps it was how long he'd hung there, helpless. Other Fallen Angels certainly made a quicker job of their kills.

At least that fight answered a few things. It had caught Steak by surprise, but with how fragile it was even a human could at least hurt it. The way it shrieked when he merely squeezed it... yes it was quite believable that his Master Attendant could fend it off. It struck Steak first, their mutual Master Attendant had struck back, and the damned thing was so fragile it retreated.

Which meant it was perfectly killable. As long as it couldn't catch him by surprise, then it stood no chance of even harming him. And of course Red Wine had to be there to kill it. He doubted anyone knew better of this unique beast than he. But of course he couldn't watch his own back. And... of course the only one he could trust to watch it well enough... .

"Steak," he muttered, dragging his hands down his face (nevermind that he actually said that aloud). It made sense to take him along too, if only for him to have a chance at closure with the beast that had harmed him so. But the problem there was neither of them were much for distant combat, and if that _thing_ kept to the trees, kept it's core so high up and awkward to reach... they would need the help of one of the more long distance-

Well all this plotting was going to be USELESS until Steak died.

Dammit. Red Wine sat up. That confusing cowardice of that made Red Wine flee... did their mutual Master Attendant hand over the swords? They must have. But he couldn't be _sure_. And if they did, would they have talked him out of reforming, if only by accident?

Red Wine had to try and find out. He had to see Steak again... but that would also probably mean seeing Master Attendant first. He very much doubted that he'd be allowed to just walk in again once they learned what he'd tried. He needed to... explain his actions somehow. And his muteness.

And there was no saving face about it.

He stood. He could find them and talk like a reasonable being. He didn't even need rest. His death had taken care of that. And the sooner, the less likely that they had already gone to bed.

He stepped out in the hall and began to search, both for them, and at least an excuse for his muteness. In two turns he found... Steak.

Steak, walking up to him, looking distinctly more healthy, but still wrapped in bandages and moving a little more... unsteadily than he usually does, but still walking. Still wearing the clothes that had been put on him after his injuries. And looking none too pleased. "Red Wine." The tone was still rather flat for Steak, but at least carried some anger. "You're an idiot." He placed a hand on one wall and leaned on it.

"What."

Steak, keeping his eyes on Red Wine, turned so that his shoulders rested more on the wall. Even his glare was more alive than the looks he'd given the other day. "Master Attendant told me you went alone and got my swords, even knowing it was dangerous."

"Most people suffice with a thank you."

" _Thank you?_ " This time Steak's bellow didn't come with a wince and a reopened wound. "Red Wine!... you... ." But the power drained from his voice fast and he pressed himself into the wall, sliding down, looking up at the ceiling, away from Red Wine. "Why did you decide to do that? Alone."

"Is it not enough that I noticed their absence and decided to help you?" The excuse rose easily.

"Help? You went from trying to kill me to wanting to help me?" Steak shook his head, ending with his exhausted gaze back on Red Wine. "I don't believe you."

"Well, alright. I had thought that if I got you your swords back, you wouldn't have to worry about them so _then_ I could kill you so you'd be back to full health."

Steak's tired eyes could have been blankly judging Red Wine, for all he knew. Processing? The moments of silence went on until Steak's answer finally arrived.

"Red Wine, I still don't want to die."

"Oh."

Strange.  
Red Wine couldn't bring himself to react much to those words. No gaping. No _offense._ He'd had quite enough of stress for the day. Perhaps. Or he'd expected this. Red Wine checked himself. He was standing straight. "Well... fine then. I can see you are recovering quite quickly." Nothing to be done if Steak decided to bear those scars. "However, thanks to my encounter with the Fallen Angel who had cut you down, I have a plan. And you are absolutely necessary for it, so the longer you remain indisposed, the longer it has to roam."

Steak frowned. "You're still trying to get me to die?"

"I admit I have little hope of managing that now." Red Wine pressed down on his own temples. "I don't understand why continuing to suffer, while your contract with _our_ Master Attendant is still valid, is your preference, but I've just about had it w-"

"It's the will."

Will?

Red Wine lifted his hand to find Steak facing away again, and gaze cast down. What could he... he couldn't mean that... "What do you mean?"

"Master attendant was able to defeat that fallen angel without me. So what use am I?"

Oh no.

The absolute imbecile.

"Steak." Red Wine's words had enough energy to have a hard edge to them. "Do you really think you, the absolutely most stubborn git I will ever have the pleasure to know, would not be able to reform if you died again? _Look at you!_ " Red Wine threw an open palm at Steak, "Just the other day you were unconscious, practically flooding the place with your own blood, and had injuries far beyond ones that had killed you before. You don't think the _will_ to survive under those conditions is more than sufficient to allow your reformation?"

"hrmnph."

"Steak, there's no need for that! I am trying to understand you here!"

Steak turned away from Red Wine fully, exposing more of the bandages that still wrapped him. "It's not 'I know I won't come back' it's 'I might not'"

Well... at least that had... some nuance. Certainly a lot more _reasonable_ than 'he must be worried he'd lose his swords!'.

"So," Red Wine said, "in spite of everything, you are worried about the small chance you may not reform, due to feeling... inadequate?"

"I said I don't want to die."

Searching the fragments of their previous lifetimes for anything like this, Red Wine found little. The nearest... that one lifetime that Red Wine prayed Steak didn't remember, and even then... him not having the 'will' to reform was out of the question. Red Wine muttered, "Why is it that we get along most peacefully when you are suffering?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Just reflecting on old times I'd rather you didn't have."

Steak tilted his head curiously towards Red Wine but said nothing. His eyes were... not as dull as they had been moments before.

"If you were to call me a fool, you'd be quite right." Red Wine loosely crossed his arms and found his left elbow to be most fascinating in that moment. "Perhaps if I knew these details, I would not have set off on my own. However," and here he raised his head so he could meet Steak's eyes, "I would not have found out what I know now about this foe of ours. It is swift, and quite... stealthy. It managed to attack me from behind even as I stared at its main body. But it is also quite...fragile."

Steak offered no response but an intense stare.

And so Red Wine continued. "I was told you were caught completely by surprise. And having faced it myself, I can easily see how you entered such a predicament. I can also easily see how our Master Attendant was able to send it fleeing. It had... " Red Wine shuddered at the memory, "Impaled me through the neck and held me aloft, yet I was able to cause it great suffering just by swinging on it, and crush one of its limbs with a greatly weakened bare hand." And his throat tightened in memory of the splinters that rode his own blood. He massaged his throat.

It was quite satisfying to see Steak's eyes widen. More of the light returning to it as his brain worked on this information. A lot of information. Maybe he needed time... surely that was a lot for his slow at the best of times brain to process.

But Red Wine had to say more. "Now that we are aware of the Fallen's presence, and it's weakness, we only need two things to defeat it and rid the forest of its menace. It is quite nimble and I doubt we'd be able to fight it with our swords, so we need the aid of someone who can fire at it from afar. Secondly, we need to be a distraction. Both of us know it and... ," he took a breath, "... I think you ESPECIALLY need to kill it, and there's none other who knows how you fight better than me, and vice versa. Which is exactly what we need if we are to keep a lookout and prevent it from giving us a surprise attack."

Steak frowned, in a very puzzled way. Who knew what would churn through that head. Best to let them.

"Well, I won't keep you," Red Wine said. "You are clearly healing fast, and perhaps time is what I need to find a third." No need to mention that he already had ideas. "In the meantime, you should rest. We all will want you able to fight it as soon as possible." Since Steak could walk, it probably wouldn't take too long. Of course, if he died that would be faster, but at this point... that was a lost cause. Facilitating this longer path to recovery was all Red Wine could do. "Farewell."

"Right..." Steak said, slowly as if he was chewing over every sound in the word. "Good bye."

Red Wine turned.

This... was all rather tiring.


	7. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of telling happens in this chapter. It just... is there to more gloss over the more boring bits that wouldn't contribute much. Show, don't tell is not ALWAYS a good idea.

A day.

A day had passed before Red Wine finally found his Master Attendant at an opportune time to explain himself. _A day._

A day fretting over how he might explain his fleeing and inability to explain himself. A day that was otherwise normal aside from Steak's absence, the quiet that followed him everywhere. A day in which Red Wine also fretted about how to explain his plan.

And he just came across them, curled up in an armchair, simultaneously appearing as if they were trying to take up as much space as possible and like they did not have enough, reading. Quite engrossed, judging by them somehow not having heard him enter.

He waited.

Inevitably, they'd look away from the book eventually, and when they did...

Red Wine stepped into their view. "Ahem."

They looked at him. Silently. Not the slightest response.

Normally they'd at least say "yes?"

"Master Attendant," he started, unsure if the next part would be expected, "I'm sorry."

A few moments passed before they prompted: "What for? Specifically." They didn't look confused, just serious.

"For not being able to respond to you when I arrived. I had every intention of explaining, when I had a chance, but I had just been stabbed in the throat. I suppose I was still reeling from the shock of that incident." That possibly was the entire truth to it.

"And why did you run off on your own to get Steak's swords?"

Ah yes. "I had... misinterpreted the situation. I hope you can understand that this... has been resolved with the man himself. " And he took a loud breath, holding up his hand. Not finished. "We had a rather calm discussion for once."

"Really? I heard you'd tried to stab him in the neck."

...

"I... ." Red Wine pulled on a cufflink, and did his best to not avoid their eyes., "I was referring to just the other day, a more recent conversation than that," but the pull of any detail off to the side was hard to resist, "I would not have stabbed him in the neck unless he agreed to it."

His Master Attendant pressed themself back into the armchair and rested their head on one hand. "I suppose since you listened in the end, that's alright. Not that I'm _pleased_ with you mind."

"I didn't figure you would be."

"And now you just accept his no?"

"Since we've reached an understanding, yes."

They mulled it over for some moments. "Well. I guess that's over. Unless you have something else to say?"

"Only that... " and he moved over to sit down. "I would like to report on the nature of that fallen angel, and perhaps plan on how to defeat it once and for all. After all this mess it has caused... I think it's very due some Retribution."

For the first time since that meeting started, they smiled.

There were three around the table, plotting how to take on the Fallen Angel. Red Wine himself, of course, Black Tea, who had chosen to be the one to attack from afar, and Steak, who had removed his head bandages and wore the polished remains of his armour over that white shirt.

Red Wine was starting to get used to the sight of a shirted Steak.

Black Tea started: "We've spread the word not to enter that forest. Though we haven't heard of anyone else encountering that Fallen Angel, though it seems it had only arrived recently."

Red Wine flipped through his notes, "Or it only strikes in the dark, when few would consider going through the forest."

"That is... possible."

Steak said nothing. He stayed awake, but that seemed to be his entire contribution. That was quite fine. The sooner he had all his strength back, the better.

Black Tea seemed to understand this, though she glanced at Steak occasionally, over the course of talks, mostly confirming details and speculation. Her serious expression never faltered, it was hard to tell what it was she looked for. "And you are absolutely certain that it has no more surprises in store?"

"I very much doubt it."

Black Tea glanced down at her notes. "Then... I think... we really don't need to make this plan any more complex. The two of you being the distraction... and if anything should go wrong then of course we can change tack." And another glance at Steak.

Red Wine would have to have a talk, wouldn't he?

Steak nodded at her. His gaze seemed a little bleary, but he had stayed awake the whole time. A bit disturbing how that seemed praiseworthy. "Is this all then?"

"I think so," Black Tea said, and stood. "If you don't mind, I'll return to my training."

"Of course not." He had to say that.

But he left soon after she did. If Steak thought anything about that, he didn't say.

Red Wine soon caught up to Black Tea, and Steak's heavy footsteps did not follow. "Madam?"

She stopped and turned back. "Yes?"

"I noticed that you kept glancing at Steak. Do you have concerns?" Red Wine stepped within a dignified distance of her.

"Hmm." Her expression still did not change. "The longer we have to wait for him to heal, the more likely it is that someone else will cross that Fallen Angel's path. Are you certain waiting for him is the best path?"

Yes. This is what he was ready for, suspecting as much. "He was the first to encounter it. I wouldn't want to deny him the chance to strike it back for the injuries." Maybe it would get him past his odd mental blocks. "And with how often we raise our swords against each other, I would not trust anyone to watch my back more. That is an absolutely essential part of the plot. You also have to admit, his rate of healing is quite remarkable, for how heavy the wounds were just days ago. I would venture he'd be ready tomorrow or the day after at most."

A hint of a frown crossed her face. "... alright. Now I really must get back to my training."

"Farewell, then."

"Farewell."

"Steak, How can you be sure TODAY will be the day if you still refuse to take off your chest bandages?" Red Wine yelled. Mere hours had passed since he'd assured Black Tea that Steak would be fine enough soon, and now Steak, having somehow gotten hold of a new cloak for his gauntlet but still wearing that loose shirt, through which the bandages on his chest cast their shadows, stood in front of Red Wine's room with his swords to hand.

"I'm fine."

"If you were quite fine enough to fight you wouldn't need those bandages and their support! I'm quite glad you feel fit and able, but at least part of you must feel you are not."

Oh how Steak GLARED.

Red Wine had _missed_ that glare. That sharp and alive glare.

"I don't want to waste any more time," Steak said.

"If you injure yourself again we will waste more time! If those wounds of yours reopen because you were too active in the wrong moment or it hit you just right, in a way that would not have drastically in-"

"Red Wine, we've waited enough!" Louder. Booming.

"Well, you certainly can YELL without re-inuring yourself." Cheek. It was a great defence. All he had because normally they had the option of drawing their swords against each other. Another reason Steak choosing not to die was an absolute PAIN. The two of them couldn't even ARGUE correctly. "If you wish to prove you can help today, talk to Master Attendant about it. They would know better about healing slowly." That damn clumsy HUMAN fool.

"Red Wine, you-"

"Are the very picture of concern. Shall I fetch them for you?"

"You're mollycoddling me."

Red Wine blinked a few times before responding. Where had he learned such a long word? "I won't deny it. That's the path you've chosen. But don't get used to it. The sooner everyone can trust you are fully healed the sooner all will be normal again."

Steak's glare intensified.

"I didn't choose this." He said, and left.

Red Wine let him. Though he squashed down several comebacks. It would be ruinous if Steak flew into a rage right then.

Another day.  
Steak took off the bandages, and did not wear that shirt anymore, leaving the crater in his chest and back quite visible to everyone.

Red Wine thought he looked better with a shirt on.

Black Tea had suggested they test him with some training, and that all went well enough. The results were... that Red Wine never so much as caught a whiff of Steak's blood, and they were able to act out the plan well enough. Even if Milk using her... milk... to act as the beast's vines. And Steak pushed them to practice longer than Black Tea intended.

As a result, Steak was sat down, radiating heat, breathing the most heavily, but thankfully still not smelling of blood. His injuries had not reopened.

Red Wine, not quite AS tired himself (so strange, Steak being more tied than him was so strange.) sat near him, relatively. Within three feet.

Black Tea joined too. "Steak, are you alright?"

He took maybe a few moments, before he sat up straighter and said, "yes." 

"And your injuries?"

"They're fine."

Red Wine interjected, seeing as Steak was being curt. "He hasn't reopened any of his wounds, I think that is sufficient evidence that he is quite healed."

Black Tea granted another of her nods. This time, there was a trace of a smile.

Meanwhile, Steak glared again. "Red Wine, did you really have to?"

"I thought some clarity was in order. That is all." Red Wine's answer.

"Please don't fight you two," Black Tea's voice was more sigh than usual. And then it took on her personal, famous, hard edge, "We do not want to delay this battle anymore."

"I think I'd be ready tonight," Steak said.

Black Tea shook her head. "You've done well, but you are tired now. If we are to strike it, we should all rest so that none of us is less than they can be."

Interesting, putting the burden on everyone.

"mh." Steak slowly stood, creaking his way up in awkward positions. "I suppose guess then _I_ have to make sure _I_ don't do anything else to hurt myself. Goodbye." And off he went home, with nary a glance back.

And another sigh escaped Red Wine. "Really. The sooner this is over the better."

"Do you also think we should fight tonight?"

"No." Red Wine shook his head. "But I grow tired of him being like this. Really. If the two of us weren't the ones that knew the few best, I'd be happy to let someone else fight it. But him? He's so damn LOYAL and obsessive when it comes to destroying Fallen Angels too. I swear I remember him interrupting his Master Attendant PROPOSING in order to report the presence of one of the fallen in one of our past lives." Well, he didn't remember enough of that fragment to really tell if it was a proposal. But with how furious Red Wine remembered himself being, it must have been.

"Do you think he wants to see if he could defeat it in a fairer fight?"

"What would a fairer fight even _be?_ The reason we need you is that we both use swords."

"Then that is one of the conditions needed for it to be a fair fight, is it not?"

That gave him pause. He had imagined that without her, it would be more a war of attrition, the two of them too equal. "Perhaps."

He made one step home. "I might reflect on that." 


	8. Interlude 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another small flashback to a certain previous lifetime.

Steak didn't look fine.

But whatever he looked like, Red Wine must have looked worse. To get Steak looking at him with that... concern... concern looked wrong on Steak. 

And Red Wine was holding onto Steak's armour. Why would he do that?

"Sorry," Steak said, trying to pull away from Red Wine's grip, "I don't ... understand... ." His gaze turned away. Guiltily? What did he do?

In the memory Red wine heard, rather than felt, the sobs in his voice.

"Of course you don't. Your damn loyalty... ."

The memory faded with Red Wine looking down, still holding on.


	9. Chapter 6: Finale

The walk to the forest was different in the daytime, and Red Wine had no complaints about the umbrella. Or the additional companionship of Milk. who would stay far away from the battle and heal as was necessary (hopefully this time her healing would be USEFUL).

Steak marched on ahead, each step firm in purpose. Gone was the welmish man who could barely lift his head, even to argue for his own life, without re injuring himself, back was the proud man who would defend their master attendant with loyalty to the brim and would interrupt anything just to stop a fallen angel.

Black Tea kept to the side, and walked impressively silently. (She was rather impressive in general... most ways anyway.)

And Red Wine too marched with his purpose, staying behind. Of course, he had to stay behind. Even if it was Black tea who would make the finishing blows, it was Steak who needed this fight. Would it be enough for him?

The doubt was a small cold spot deep in Red Wine's chest. If it wasn't enough to bring back the Steak who isn't anxious about dying in battle, what else could he do? He couldn't reform himself around this version of Steak, who didn't want... didn't NEED to be treated gently, but at the same time how could he FIGHT a version of Steak who might die in battle and stay so? So much between the two was tied to fighting, and the one time it wasn't... that lifetime he prayed that Steak never remembered.

The forest loomed.

The dusk was their compromise between being able to see the Fallen Angel, and that foul beast's search for the dark.

The dusk was Red Wine's compromise with the light.

And a ghost of a scent of Steak's blood, already decaying and dusty, floated to them on the winds.

"Steak!" Red Wine called out, quickening his pace to catch up, "You may wish to lead, but I was able to track it down, assuming it would be in the same place as before." It hadn't moved after attacking Steak, perhaps it would still be there. "If I may?"

Steak grunted his assent, and quickly stepped back behind Red Wine. No arguments. Not this time.

As the two of them walked, Red Wine could only hear one set of footsteps beside his own. Steak's. Good. It would be best if the Fallen Angel had no idea Black Tea was there.

The scent of old blood, just Steak's blood, grew stronger, but never as strong as it had been. The forest sounds remained quiet, the creatures this time driven away by the noisy intruders. Not even birds flitted above.

The dusklight grew clearer ahead, and the scent of old blood... not clearer but more concentrated, and the trees ahead looked familiar.

The pace of Steak's footsteps changed behind him. A slight bump of hesitancy. Did he recognise this place too?

Finally daring to look back, Red Wine did not see Black Tea. She must have found a position she can be in.  "We're near." Red Wine said, a low whisper,  just for Steak. And he drew his sword.

Steak replied in kind.

And they both stepped through.

In the lighter, earlier dusk, it hang from the branches, still. It's corpselike main form was the only thing that didn't blend into the trees, its vines only distinguishable close to where they twisted into the main form.

It was there. They were there. Now... it's attention... .

Red Wine stomped on the ground and raised his sword against it. "YOU! Your reign of Terror ends now!" Well, no one said he had to be _creative._

The false corpse twitched. Forms writhed behind it.

And behind him, he felt Steak's back settle against his own. Familiar, and covered. Even the edges of Steak's armour was familiar. And those muscles tensed and flowed, followed by the sound of splintering wood and that Fallen Angel's shriek.

"You're right, it IS fast," Steak said, and the tone had a SMILE to it!

And Red Wine smiled too. Before catching a vine heading their way, slicing it in half and swerving his sword to cut it another way too. "Why don't you try and bring it closer?"

Steak bellowed, "WELL? ARE YOU JUST GOING TO STAY UP THERE?"

It became a dance, staying close to each other, constantly parrying away the vines, wearing it down. The being's shriek's echoed into the dark, and soon they were almost surrounded by a nest of the chopped down vines.

"I have to say, is this REALLY all it has?" Red Wine grinned, bearing down on yet one more vine, "One trick and if that fails that's all?"

"It looks so, brother." Steak's voice betrayed no exhaustion, only glee. "Look! It only has stubs!"

And Red Wine did look.

It certainly was stripped. Only the vines that held it up in the trees were still long, and if it lost them-

A stub thwacking Red Wine in the head interrupted the thought. Red Wine caught himself before falling, and cut that stump further. "Next time you tell me to look, it better be when the battle's over!" His voice was gruff, and his cheek was covered in he didn't want to know what but it was sticky. Hopefully not toxic.

"Got it." Steak's voice still had that smile, and Red Wine caught another vine.

Black Tea was letting them have some fun.

In spare moments, he tried to catch her eye, but she was well hidden. A glint in the shadows might have been her guns, might have been his imagination.

Focus back on the Fallen, Red Wine slashed more vines, counting. they were coming, fewer and fewer, and shorter and shorter.

And then with its greatest shriek, it drew all those stumps up.

Red Wine looked again, to see it reaching back behind it with one of its support vines, grip on something and pull itself away---

Three shots rang out.

And the Fallen Angel's support vines all snapped and it CRASHED to the forest floor, a mess of mud and sliced limbs and sap, wriggling and writhing at random.

It was a bit nauseating.

Steak ran to it.

Red Wine let him.

Red Wine watched.

Steak's scream was furious as he pinned it down with one sword and set about chopping at the rest of its false corpse body in a frenzy with the other. It stopped twitching before he stopped cutting; he only stopped when it started to fade.

Red Wine finally stepped up to him. "Is this enough for you?"

Steak went entirely still, looking at the remains of the false corpse. Whatever expression he held on his face, Red Wine could not see it.

Finally

He said

"It's enough."

And Steak's body started to shake and before Red Wine could ask, those shakes turned into laughs. He barely stopped himself from collapsing into the mud behind him. "It was..." Steak said, "...really as weak as you said..." he gasped after the laughter died down. "It was just a cheat."

"Just a cheat," Red Wine repeated, firmly, and cast a glance into the forest again. For the moment it was peaceful.

And Red Wine wondered how long it would be until the two of them drew their swords against each other over some disagreement. What it would be. He hoped soon. After all, there would be no better proof that Steak was past that lifeless worry of his.

But in that moment the two of them had peace.

Red Wine stood beside Steak, and offered his hand, "Come on now. Let's head home."

_______________________________________________________________________________

Steak had a memory... and maybe it was starting to make sense a little.

One side of his head was lighter than the other, and felt... empty.

He sat on the side of something, even that wasn't clear, staring out at the sunset.  Red Wine was near, watching it too, silently, looking out with his elbows on his knees, and  with that almost frown he did at really bad times to interrupt him.

And in this memory, Red Wine asked: "This time, do you feel free?"

Steak didn't answer.

This Red Wine fidgeted, repeatedly rubbing his thumb over his fingers. "You're not grieving like you usually do."

"Should I?" Steak's own voice was empty. Empty enough that he didn't know whether or not he wanted to find out why.

He didn't understand the look that Red Wine gave him. It was... sad? It wasn't angry or happy. Nor did he understand why Red Wine said. "I don't know. Maybe there isn't a 'should'. Not this soon.." Red Wine faced back into the sunset.

Steak joined him in that. "It doesn't feel like freedom, yet..." He leaned back, putting his hands on the ground behind him as a support, "but maybe it will."

And Red Wine got closer.

"It will. I promise it will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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